


Every Monster

by Ukudigo



Category: Undertale
Genre: Gen, Mettaton has a fight!, Oneshot, Street Violence, death (ish), generally quite morbid, halloween (ish)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 07:59:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12250269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ukudigo/pseuds/Ukudigo
Summary: Mettton gets in one little fight





	Every Monster

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a bit of angst for the soul, nothing at all serious. But what is serious is mental health, so if you want to avoid somewhat real violence, or violence with some elements of the real- such as being attacked in the street, then this is a fic to avoid!
> 
> I don't want to offend or hurt anyone, and this is just an expression of frustration, but I want everyone to stay safe.

Pissing off into town like this was a hissy fit. It was an immature tantrum, and it was everyone else's fault, and Mettaton honestly didn't give a shit. He didn't care if it was baby-ish to just storm out into the city, and he didn't care that even he could tell he was looking for trouble.

The punch to his face cut through his thoughts, but he smiled- sharply. He set his jaw and punched the face in front of him. It was a man's face, clearly drunk. He looked flushed and his eyes lacked focus. They surveyed the whole world with the same manic frenzy that drove another fist back into the sharp metal of Mettaton's face.

It was on the news all day, shit like this. Monster's baiting humans into petty scraps. Culture shock, the more patronising humans called it. "Fucking disgusting," the human before him screeched. 

Everyone did it. Something about seeing their worried little eyes, always looking at you like you were going to start a Fight just made you- want to. Want to do it to them. Want to look them in the eyes and nod, "yes, I really am 'like that."

Everyone did it, when they were angry enough. Restless, bitter, resentful, fuck- even just plain bored enough. 

Everyone did it. And not everyone survived.

Like a bullet through skull-meat, the human struck again. Mettaton wiped the spray of… stuff… off his chin before spinning into a ballet kick. The other guy caught him by the ankle and flipped him up onto the fucking concrete. Heard something crack, like cheap plastic. It was just the bin that broke his opponent's fall.

Rubbish spilled on the street, rattling against the pavement in the wind. Someone slammed their window loudly, and Mettaton's opponent scrambled to standing position a second quicker than him. He stomped Mettaton in the head, keeping him down, and Mettaton simply fired off a round of magical bombs. Had he been looking up, he'd have seen his enemy spit blood from the face that was swelling with bruises manifesting before his very eyes. 

A reprieve, all of a moment, as the guy took a healing swig of beer. Had Mettaton's decision making process not been interrupted by a whole lot of pain and a whole lot of frustration, Mettaton would have run away.

It just so happened that Mettaton was fucking stupid. It was how he ended up fighting a stranger in the street.

He considered that a mere child had nearly killed him, as he stood up to take another round from this guy. Had he not called the whole fight off, upon getting his own way, he knew that he would either have killed Frisk, or Frisk would have killed him. He didn't even know what he wanted from this fight. But he knew what his opponent wanted- the guy chucked the empty bottle at his face, but Mettaton caught it and threw it back without a second thought. While launching himself, and a summoned artillery of legs at the man, still clutching his face.

He didn't really want to kill anyone. But God knew he was a monster, and monster's lived for the Fight.

He couldn't have said when the knife came out, or the kind of damage it could do. It was metal, he was metal; what could go wrong?

It was when the blade buried itself in his eye that Mettaton first felt the instinctual call to Flee. It was when he couldn't move that he really put more weight into the idea of wanting out.

"Stop," he slurred. The tip of the knife was scrambling something important, cutting wires that needed to stay together, severing conncetions; he could feel it. It was agony, and he could feel it.

It was when the kicks came, that's when he became aware that he was on the floor. And that his head was spinning. He remembered the first time he woke up in his body, the one that was being taken apart right now with kicks and punches, and he'd just twirled, only once, and he'd felt so dizzy.

He laughed and gunk came out. Something was leaking very profusely. Something was pumping some liquid around him, and it was all coming up.

This was worse than when he was Fighting Frisk. Because at least he hadn't thrown up while getting beaten to death. Frisk knew how to Fight like a real Monster, with magic. Not like this.

He'd moaned that last part, now, and his enemy laughed.

He rolled over, avoiding one fatal stamp to the back of his vulnerable chest. In one quick move he was back on his feet, swaying. In another he cut loose all the magical attacks he could. He'd tried to do this like a human, with the physical body he'd wanted so bad.

He'd resorted to being a Monster, all magic and unfairness, and cheating.

But he'd rather live like a Ghost than die like a Monster, just like he was about to. Acid tears found a target on a fleshy face, and bombs made of magic landed on a human Soul.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry that this was a bit intense! I hope someone out there liked it anyway!


End file.
